


Mozart and Bandages

by LadyAJ_13



Series: Tumblr Ficlets and Prompts [2]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompt, internalised toxic masculinity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25904188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyAJ_13/pseuds/LadyAJ_13
Summary: She’s silent as she cleans the graze on his arm.
Relationships: Monica Hicks/Endeavour Morse
Series: Tumblr Ficlets and Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1879900
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	Mozart and Bandages

**Author's Note:**

  * For [YvonneSilver](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YvonneSilver/gifts).



> Written for YvonneSilver who requested Monica (and perhaps Morse) for the dialogue prompt "I'm constantly scared”.

She’s silent as she cleans the graze on his arm. It’s not enough to need medical attention, not really. Even Thursday hadn’t looked at it too askance, hadn’t insisted on driving him to the emergency department or even swinging by Debryn’s office before he dropped him off at home. He could have just run it under a tap, but when he came through his front door Monica was curled up in his armchair, and - well.

“Thanks,” he says gruffly, too late. She’d probably come over for a bit of fun and instead here he is, bleeding into his cuffs and forcing her back into the day job. The way her face had fallen at the sight of it, the speed with which she’d dragged herself from rest and across to grab her supplies.

“I don’t mind, Morse.” She pulls away the last ball of cotton wool and gathers them into the bin. “‘Course, I’d rather you didn’t get hurt.” The graze is angry and red, and she smooths a soothing cream over it before covering it with a pad. It’s too large for a plaster, but the bandage makes it look worse than it is. “You seem to end up in the wars a lot. Don’t you get scared?”

He doesn’t answer. Of course he does, but it’s not something to admit - even into the safe warmth of his own living room with  _ The Magic Flute _ playing low.

“Don’t you?”

He should say no. That’s what he should say, anything else is a weakness. But he doesn’t really think anyone could look down the barrel of a gun, or teeter on a rooftop without feeling their heart thud sickeningly and stomach turn and palms go clammy. “Yes,” he whispers as she fastens the bandage and checks the tightness. He’s glad she’s not looking at him.

“I’m constantly scared.”

He raises his eyebrows as she looks up. Monica? Calm, in control Monica, scared? “You?”

“There are things I face that you’ll never understand,” she says softly, packing away her rubbing alcohol, scissors and the length of unused bandage that she’s re-rolled smartly. She nudges until he leans back in the armchair he stole from her, then pushes her way in, curling up under his uninjured arm. “And, probably, the same for you. At least, I hope I never have to take down a criminal.”

He kisses her cheek. “I hope so too.”

“It’s okay to admit when you’re hurt,” she says. He thinks she’s talking about more than just knocks and scrapes, and for once, that feels alright too. Perhaps here it  _ is _ okay - here with the drawn curtains, and room stained yellow by lamplight, and Monica warm in his arms. 

“Thank you.”


End file.
